Godfather Death
by Baywood
Summary: In return for a favor, Death offers Harry a second chance. But Harry's second chance changes a lot of things about the world. All the Marauders live, and a Harry Potter grows up loved, but that isn't our Harry. He grows up in the middle of pureblood society as a completely different person, a child with the mindset of a war veteran. TimeTravel AU MoD!Harry (but not overpowered).
1. Last Man Standing

**The prophecy foretelling Voldemort's downfall**

 **Given by Sybil Trelawny to Albus Dumbledore**

 **1979**

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has come anew,_

 _Born to him who in the dark betrayed the Dark,_

 _Born under the shield of Godfather Death,_

 _Come to destroy the power over Death,_

 _Returned to vanquish once more the Dark Lord,_

 _Marked his equal, he shall become his greatest rival,_

 _But terrible and great power shall he possess,_

 _For neither can live while the other survives,_

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has come again..._

 **Disclaimer: Baywood isn't owning Harry Potter**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Last Man Standing**

When Voldemort died, his body slumped to the ground like a normal man. Some Death Eaters went into shock, others threw down their wands in surrender, and the rest… the rest lost all composure. They attacked with crazed desperation. Their leader was dead, but their ideals were not. Their crimes still stood. They wouldn't surrender.

The battles that ensued – and there were many after the Battle of Hogwarts – were all horrific. They were bloody, chaotic, desperate, and numerous. For years they went on. In that time, the Death Eaters (their numbers were great after a year of Voldemort at full power) were cut down in droves, but so were the members of the Light. Ginny died first, followed by Ron, then Neville, then Luna, Percy, Kingsley, Charlie, Hermione, Bill, Parvati and Padma, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, and many, many more.

Harry remembered them all.

The years melded together. Sometimes, Harry would stumble across the date and realize he was a year older. Other times, he was acutely aware of every day spent on this war. But he always remembered those lost.

Dark Lords tried to rise in place of Voldemort—former Death Eaters, foreigners, or just an average wizard—but the Order of the Phoenix killed every last one of them. At first they defeated them together, as a cohesive team. But as more and more people died, it was just Harry.

He didn't even know why they were fighting anymore. He wasn't sure anyone did. For some people this war was all they knew. Even those who lived through the times of peace seemed to have forgotten. It was just going through the motions now.

That's why Harry was so unbalanced when, in the middle of a particularly chaotic skirmish, Death plucked him out of reality to offer him a second chance.

"A what?" Harry said, staring at the skeletal creature in front of him and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Death was a real being.

"A second chance at all of this," Death breathed, smoky darkness roiling at its feet. "I'll send you back."

Harry twirled the Elder Wand absently through his fingers as he stared at Death. Its shoulders were hunched and its head bowed and hidden under its hood, but it was still towering over him. Harry couldn't pretend that a second chance wasn't a tempting prospect. But years of war and death had taught Harry nothing if not extreme caution. The constant Death Eater attacks, the constant struggle against Dark Lords, the constant running to avoid detection, the constant fighting, the constant tiredness of mind and body… it all bred constant vigilance.

"Why are you offering me this, Death?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at the spectre. "After all this time, why offer this chance now? Don't you enjoy all the dying?"

Death stared at him before it turned and disappeared into a plume of dark smoke. "Death comes to all," the being said, voice echoing all around Harry. "I care not when."

"I still don't understand why you're offering," Harry said, turning slowly as he searched the smoke blackness for Death's form.

"You've lost your hope," Death's disembodied voice intoned gravely.

Harry frowned at Death's shadowy form. "What does my hope matter? There's still a reason to fight. And the fight is all I have left, so I may as well go on. I'm sure someone will off me eventually."

"And thus," Death went on, ignoring Harry's response. "You have lost all purpose for the future."

A soft whoosh behind him made Harry whirl around, and he immediately found himself mere inches away from Death itself.

"You have no hope," Death hissed. "You are one of the last still fighting."

Harry backed up, forcing himself not to react to the putrid smell of decay and rot on Death's breath. "So?"

"All those you cared for I have claimed," Death said and then disappeared in a plume of darkness again. "All those who cared for you I have claimed."

Harry growled in irritation at Death's games, eyeing the dim, void landscape around him.

"Nothing remains for you," Death said. Suddenly Harry felt two vice-like hands grasp his arms, clenching tightly, compressing him. Death whispered in his ear, "Nothing… except me."

Harry twisted his neck to look over his shoulder at the creature, glaring into its black eyes. He resolutely ignored how correct the creature was and asked. "So you are just going to gift me with a second chance out of the goodness of your heart?"

A long pause. Death released Harry's arms. "No," the being admitted.

Harry immediately took several steps away and faced Death again. "Well, what is it then?"

Death's sunken black eyes bored into Harry's. "I saw," Death uttered, "an opportunity that has not been afforded me in centuries."

When Death did not immediately explain, Harry raised his eyebrows and demanded, "Well, what do you want then?"

"The Hallows destroyed," Death replied, black eyes gleaming, "that none shall ever be able to Master me again."

That was unexpected. Harry tilted his head and regarded Death. Honestly, he didn't care. The Elder Wand had served him well against Voldemort, giving him a much needed advantage so that he could actually compete on the Dark Lord's level. But then, it made Harry a little uncomfortable sometimes, when he got carried away in the rush of power the wand sent pulsing through his veins of magic. He worried that it'd take him over completely one day. He was pretty sure it was an unfounded fear, him being the Master of Death as well as the Elder Wand. Nevertheless, Harry would be happy to give it up in favor of his holly wand.

But still… the Hat hadn't wanted to put him in Slytherin for nothing, and the war had only grown those qualities.

"One Hallow, one favor," Harry said firmly. "You send me back, I'll find the Elder Wand and destroy it. No one can be Master of Death with only two Hallows."

Death flickered uncertainly. Harry could see the creature didn't like it—it wanted all the Hallows destroyed.

Eventually Death responded, "Very well, I accept."

Harry nodded, but didn't do anything to finalize the deal, like shaking Death's hand or some such dangerous venture. "How will it work then?" Harry asked.

"You will not be sent back as Harry Potter," Death said. "But as a child born of an affair that did not bear such fruit the first time."

Harry frowned. "Why can't I go back as myself?"

"You will return as an infant," Death said. "You will not appear out of nowhere. I cannot construct you a body. I can only send back your soul. So into an infant that did not exist before you will go. To superimpose your soul onto your infant self would be to destroy your infant mind."

Harry stared at Death, trying to decide if it was being entirely truthful. "And I won't destroy this other infant mind?"

"I will ensure it is strong enough," Death said simply.

Harry frowned. "And you can't ensure my infant self is strong enough?"

"To do so would be to destroy your infant self's soul," Death said, exasperation rolling off the creature in waves.

"And I won't be destroying the soul of this other infant?" Harry asked, frustrated.

Death seemed to sigh with frustration. "This other infant has no soul. It did not exist in the first life. It is simply a way to give you a body instead of leaving you a spirit to wander the world as the Dark Lord's did for thirteen years."

"But it's myself," Harry said, "Why can't I be myself?"

Death roiled in agitation. "You will create another self when I send you back," Death hissed. "And the only safe path is to create a whole new person. I will explain no more, Master."

Harry backed off, realizing he'd pushed far enough. "Alright," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"You will be born to an unmarried woman, the father dead not a few months later," Death continued, still sounding irritated.

Harry figured it was just a particular talent of his—pissing people off. He frowned at that last bit. "My father will die?"

"An honorable end," Death said dismissively. "Accepted."

Harry pressed his lips together, but didn't say anything.

Death, however, seemed to notice. "This… displeases you," Death prodded.

"Yes, it displeases me," Harry said, eyes narrowing. "Does he have to die?"

"He died the first time," Death said. "You will be much too young to save him."

Harry stared at Death for a long moment. "But you could," he said slowly.

"I could," Death confirmed. "For a price."

Ah, so that was it. Harry slighted him of destroying all the Hallows for the second chance, so Death was going to let his father die, giving Harry another broken childhood… but Harry could agree to destroy another Hallow, and Death would save his new father. The question was…

"And who would my father be?" Harry asked.

"An honorable man," Death said. "You admired him greatly."

Harry scowled. "You won't tell me who?"

Death gave him a hooded look.

Right. Another Hallow. Harry shook his head. He could figure that bit out later.

"Someone worth saving?" Harry pressed.

"Very much so," Death said seriously. "You would agree."

"Alright then," Harry agreed. "I'll destroy the Resurrection Stone as well."

"We have an accord?" Death asked.

"We do," Harry affirmed.

"A chance for the wand, a father for the stone," Death murmured, gliding over to Harry.

Harry held his breath as Death came to a halt in front of him.

The spectral figure hovered in front of him for a long minute before Death leaned down and pressed cold lips to his forehead.

"So mote it be," Death whispered.

Blackness overwhelmed his vision and Harry faded out of awareness.

* * *

 **AN:** Yes, I know, I have other stories not update. But I couldn't not work on this idea. And it already has a couple of chapters finished. It's farther along than most of the stuff I have up. And yeah, so pls enjoy. I did :) And pretty please review and tell me what you think. (Also, did everyone love Fantastic Beasts? I 3 Newt)


	2. Son of Carrow

**Disclaimer**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Son of Carrow**

Harry was barely aware the first couple years of his new life. His infant mind was ever so slowly accepting his twenty years of memories. It was in and out. Sometimes Harry was almost aware to the point of feeling like a thirty year-old stuck in an uncooperative body. Other times he felt a vague sense of déjà vu, or a niggling thought that he was missing something. And still other times, he expected to hear Dudley's wailing and Uncle Vernon's bellowing.

Some things he learned of his new life stayed with him whatever state his mind was in. He knew his mother was a redhead, but not like Lily at all. Her hair was a dull orange-red, and her skin was pallid. She wasn't ugly, per se, but she definitely wasn't pretty. She was rather round, but not plump. Harry recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't place her or name her.

He hadn't seen his father.

Death said he had spared him, but Harry had yet to see either hide or hair of the man. His mother, as far as Harry's mind could remember, never mentioned him.

He was pretty sure his new name was Aries, but his mother didn't use it often. She preferred the loving nicknames of 'boy', 'brat', and 'baby'.

For a long time, Harry drifted in and out of full awareness. He had nothing with which to gauge the passing of time, so just decided to enjoy the lull of calm. The pessimistic part of himself (which was admittedly quite large) told him the calm wouldn't last long.

Then he met his uncle and discovered his mother's name. To say he was displeased with Death was a massive understatement.

"So this is my nephew," said the man. He was as round and pallid as his sister, with dark hair and the same dark eyes as his sister.

"Yes," his mother said. She sounded like she was grimacing. "Here, you take him."

His uncle sniggered and took Harry. "Tired of this mother business already?"

"You would be too, Amycus," his mother sniffed. "And I imagine you'll understand soon enough with that wife of yours."

Amycus…

Harry's stomach twisted violently in his gut.

"Don't be so dramatic, Alecto," the man reprimanded. "It can't be that difficult."

His mother was Alecto Carrow, and his uncle was Amycus Carrow. Harry felt murderous rage at Death building up in his little chest. Unfortunately, his body reacted like a baby and soon he was squalling and crying. Not exactly his intended reaction, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

"Fantastic," Alecto sneered at her brother. "Now the brat's crying."

Cringing, Amycus set Harry down on the couch and pulled back. "Can you make it stop?"

"No, I can't make it stop!" Alecto snapped, glaring at Harry. "It's a baby, and baby's don't listen. Nor can I crucio it. It would either break or cry harder."

Amycus grimaced. "Maybe it is a bit difficult. When can you use the Cruciatus Curse on a child anyway?"

Alecto sighed. "At least five. That's another four years of putting up with the child's wailing."

"I pity you, sister," Amycus said over Harry's cries.

"Just wait, you'll have twins and I'll be the one pitying you," Alecto said.

"At least I'll have Lavinia," Amycus said. "Maybe you should come live with us."

"I think I can handle one pathetic child," Alecto sniffed.

Amycus snorted. "You know this is your 'pathetic child,' right Alecto?"

"I didn't want a child," Alecto hissed, standing up. "It looks like its blood-traitor father."

Amycus sighed. "Fine," he said. "But just promise you'll ask for help if you need it. Family is family after all, even considering who the child's father is."

"I won't need help," Alecto said stiffly. "But I promise."

Alecto walked over to the couch and picked up Harry, who had started to settle down. However, being in Alecto Carrow's arms, regardless of her status as his mother, was the last place Harry wanted to be, and his cries renewed their vigor, despite his conscious mind's desire to stop.

All he could think, though, was that Death was a cheating bastard, and Harry was going to raise hell over this.

* * *

Alecto Carrow was by no means a caring mother. She'd never shown him even a semblance of love or affection. Even so, when It happened, he was still shocked by the depths of her indifference toward him.

Harry was two years old and crawling. Alecto had been leaving him to his own devices more often than not when it became apparent that Harry wasn't going to get himself into any trouble. Upside to being a thirty year old in a baby's body. It was a bit of a reach for Harry's optimistic side, but he was having troubles finding anything positive to focus on. He couldn't wait until he was strong enough to walk under his own power. He'd be able to ensconce himself in the library (Alecto never went there) and spend time outside in the fresh air (Alecto never went there either). Maybe he'd even be able to hassle a broom out of the woman. Flying was one of the few pastimes he still enjoyed. It was one of the few things that kept him sane after Ron and Hermione had died, and he desperately needed the escape again.

Those were Harry's thoughts when Alecto had scooped him up off the floor and announced. "We're going to Malfoy Manor."

Harry immediately frowned. He and Draco had come to a tentative truce after the Malfoy's fall from grace, and even managed to work together with surprising effectiveness. Yet this, by no means whatsoever, meant that Harry liked him or his father. And despite his great respect for Narcissa Malfoy, he had no desire at all to come into contact with that family again.

Unfortunately, he didn't think a 'no,' however adamant, would get him his way. Alecto was utterly immune to anything and everything he wanted. It was irritating. He couldn't even make use of being an adorable child.

Before he knew it, they were flooing into Malfoy Manor (because apparating with "bloody children" was inadvisable). As it turned out, Draco had been born. Very recently, in fact. Harry was handed off to a nanny the Malfoys had hired and was then subjected to what seemed like hours of Draco's squalling. When Alecto came to retrieve him, Harry was almost glad to see her. Almost.

But then It happened.

Instead of flooing away, Alecto brought him into a large room with a long mahogany table situated in the middle. All the chairs were empty save one. Voldemort sat at the head of the table, fingering his wand with long, slender fingers. As he hadn't died yet, Voldemort still possessed his good looks; dark hair, pale skin, pointed features. But if Harry's memory served him right, Voldemort had already split his soul five times, and it showed. His dark eyes flashed red in the light and his whole aura screamed 'evil, twisted, and demented.'

Alecto set Harry on the end of the table and stepped back.

Something was very very wrong, Harry thought. He turned his small head to look over his shoulder at Alecto, searching for answers in her blank expression.

"This is the child?" Voldemort asked. His voice had a faintly hissing quality to it, and it echoed through the room, sending a shiver up Harry's spine.

"Yes, my lord," Alecto responded. "He is the son of the traitor."

Voldemort stared at him for a moment. "Leave us," he ordered without taking his eyes off Harry.

Alecto left without question, and a thick silence descended on the room. Then Voldemort's eyes flicked to the far corner of the room. "Severus?" he said, his voice challenging.

Harry twisted around again and saw none other than Severus Snape hovering in the shadows, looking much younger than Harry remembered him. He couldn't be much older than twenty at this point.

"Forgive me, my lord," Snape said, stepping forward. "Do you intend to kill him?"

"You told me the prophecy yourself, Severus," Voldemort said. "This child cannot be allowed to live. You believe such a threat should continue to exist?"

Harry stared. If he'd had better control over his body he probably would have started cursing up a storm at this point. Apparently traveling through time and becoming an entirely separate person did not save one from being subject to a prophecy.

"Of course not," Snape said, bowing his head. "The child must die. But you know how I feel about Black, my lord. I hope you can understand my need for... revenge."

Voldemort seemed to consider Snape for a moment before he nodded. "Very well. You may stay, Severus."

Snape bowed slightly. "Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort rose smoothly from his throne-like chair and seemed to glide across the room, fingers trailing on the expensive wooden table. He circled around to the end of the table and faced Harry.

Harry stared, wondering just how he was going to get out of this. He hadn't even had the chance to destroy two Hallows, surely Death wouldn't let him pass on until he'd done that at least? And yet he couldn't see how he would survive this. Unless Snape suddenly became the self-sacrificing type and tried to protect the son of a Black.

And didn't that tidbit of information send a thrilling mass of possibilities through his mind.

"You will not defeat me child," Voldemort said, drawing Harry's attention back to reality.

Harry tried to sit up tall and meet Voldemort's flashing red eyes. He may be a two year-old baby, but if he was going to die he'd damn well do it with dignity.


	3. Son of Black

**Disclaimer**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Son of Black**

Aries looked exactly like Regulus, was Severus's first thought when he saw Alecto Carrow bring in her son. Given the child was only two, hardly old enough to be certain about such things, but Severus couldn't get the thought out of his head. The child had wavy black hair and pale skin. He might have just been imagining things, but he thought he could see the beginnings of Regulus' face shape. Severus found himself staring.

"Severus?"

Realizing that Carrow had left the room, Severus quickly covered up his inattention. "Forgive me, my lord." He paused, then took a step forward. He couldn't help but ask; "Do you intend to kill him?"

"You told me the prophecy yourself, Severus," Voldemort said, and Severus easily picked up on the mild suspicion coloring the Dark Lord's voice. "This child cannot be allowed to live. You believe such a threat should continue to exist?"

"Of course not," Severus responded reflexively, bowing his head partially as a gesture of humility and partially to hide his eyes from Voldemort's skilled mind-probing. "The child must die," he added, hating himself for saying it. It felt the ultimate betrayal to Regulus and their friendship. "But you know how I feel about Black, my lord. I hope you can understand my need for... revenge."

Voldemort considered him for a long moment before he nodded. "Very well, you may stay, Severus."

Severus bowed slightly, feeling both relief and dread in his chest. "Thank you, my lord," he said as Voldemort turned away.

"You will not defeat me, child," Voldemort said, raising his wand and pointing it at the child's forehead.

The child sat up straight, and Severus found himself wondering why he'd stayed. Seeing this child, Aries, Regulus' son, die was going to haunt him for a long time, probably the rest of his life. He unexpectedly found himself staring into the child's eyes—bright, shining green. He didn't remember anyone in either the Black or the Carrow family having such brilliant green eyes. They were enthralling.

 _"Avada Kedavra,"_ Voldemort hissed.

A beam of green light shot out of the yew wand and struck Aries's forehead. For a moment time stalled. Then the temperature in the room plummeted below freezing and half the lights in the room went out. A dark shadowy spectre seemed to hunch over the child's still form. Severus felt a an icy fear grasp his chest, making it impossible to breath. He blinked.

The spectre had vanished and the brilliant green curse sped back toward it's creator. With a cry of alarm, the Dark Lord was enveloped in sickly green light.

The ensuing explosion tore apart the manor.

Severus was thrown back against the wall by a shockwave of green. The whole building trembled and groaned under the magical blast. Severus struggled to his feet, a herculean task when the ground was shaking and his head was spinning.

A loud, dull crack sounded in Severus' ears. Above them a crack had fractured the roof. Bits of rock and dust began raining down from the fissure. It would yield in only a moment.

Severus eyes snapped to the prone form of Regulus' son, his tiny body laid out on the table. Only a pile of ash remained where Voldemort had stood.

A piece of the marble roof broke off from the rest and came crashing down, smashing into the floor and shattering into a million shards. It jolted Severus into action and he lunged forward. Staggering forward, Severus reached Regulus' son and immediately scooped the prone child into his arms. Another piece of the roof split and crushed the mahogany meeting table with a tremendous bang.

Severus stumbled back, dizziness threatening to overwhelm him, and crouched down. Holding Aries close to his chest, Severus pulled out his wand and waved it back and forth three times in front of him. _"Vallus Tholo."_

A shimmering silver dome wrapped around the two of them just as the roof gave way. Then the rest of the manor folded in on top of that. The pressure of the collapsed building against the dome was crippling. Severus could feel the protective dome siphoning off his magical core. He felt the strength draining from his muscles. His vision began tunneling to black. Severus held on as long as he could, but a few moments later he had faded into unconsciousness.

* * *

Severus woke to a pounding head and groaning muscles. He couldn't see anything in the pitch black. Taking a deep breath, Severus focused on his other senses. He was lying in a fetal position on the floor, surrounded by compacted rock in the shape of his protective dome. A tiny, warm, breathing body was pushed against his chest. Little rocks were digging painfully into his side and it was getting hard to breathe.

Severus wondered how long it had been. He hoped it had been long enough for any survivors to remove the anti-apparation wards that had been around the meeting room. Pressing Aries's body closer, Severus took a deep breath and apparated.

They appeared on the far end of the courtyard, just as Severus had intended. Thankfully it was far enough to be clear of any rubble or dust. Severus exhaled an enormous breath of relief into the dewy grass and took in a wonderful breath of fresh air.

"Severus!"

Oh joy. People.

Severus groaned and dragged himself to his feet.

"Severus!" the voice called again, and this time Severus recognized it as Narcissa Malfoy.

Severus managed to steady himself on his feet as Narcissa reached him.

"Severus, I'm so glad you're alright," Narcissa said, relief clear on her delicate features. "Is that Aries? Is he alright?"

"He's alive," Severus said shortly, loosening his grip on the child a little and lowering him a little in his arms so that he and Narcissa could properly look at him.

Bloody scratches were scattered over his small body, but the biggest and most prominent was a lightning bolt shaped cut above his eyebrow. It was red and bleeding, far more angry-looking than the others.

Both adults frowned at the cut. Narcissa drew her wand and waved it over the boy, incanting a simple healing spell. _"Sano."_

The little nicks and grazes immediately healed, but the lightning bolt cut only scabbed over.

 _"Sano!"_ Narcissa repeated with more force, but the cut remained stubbornly red. Brows knitting together, Narcissa tried a stronger spell. _"Confervo."_

The cut still refused to heal, drawing deep frowns from both adults.

"Severus, what…" Narcissa looked up at him, confusion and concern shining in her icy blue eyes.

"The Dark Lord tried to kill him," Severus said.

"Tried?" Narcissa echoed, the pitch in her voice rising.

"He hit him with the killing curse, but it… well it rebounded on him," Severus explained.

Narcissa stared at him for a long moment. "He's dead?" she whispered.

Severus nodded.

"And that caused the manor to collapse," Narcissa guessed, looking down at the child in his arms.

Severus nodded again, though unnecessarily.

Her expression hardened and she looked back up at Severus. "He's Regulus' son, isn't he?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed quietly.

Anger rose in Narcissa's expression. "This child is my cousin, my family. Not to mention a pureblood. And the Dark Lord tried to kill him! Why?" she demanded.

"A prophecy," Severus found himself answering. His already waning strength was failing and he was beginning to feel very lightheaded. "The Dark Lord believed Aries to be the child it spoke of."

"We'll talk about this later," Narcissa said, recognizing Severus' fatigue. "For now, we need to meet with the rest and tell them what's happened. Can you apparate?"

Severus grimaced. "Maybe."

"Give me the child," Narcissa ordered. "We're going to Lestrange Manor."

Severus reluctantly surrendered Regulus' son to Narcissa, and a moment later the two of them disappeared from the ruins of Malfoy Manor. They reappeared on the front step of Lestrange Manor, and Severus almost passed out from the toll that took on his depleted magical core.

"Quinty!" Narcissa called briskly.

The Lestranges' head house elf immediately popped into view. "Madame Malfoy, what can Quinty be doing for you?"

"Fetch an invigoration draught for Severus at once," she ordered.

The house elf disappeared with a nod, and Narcissa gently began pushing Severus forward, Aries secure in the crook of her arm. "Come," she said. "Everyone is in the meeting hall tending to their injuries."

They hadn't taken more than five steps before Quinty reappeared, offering a bottle full of soft red liquid. Narcissa took the potion and handed it to Severus with an acknowledging nod toward the house elf. Severus gratefully took the bottle, unstoppered it, and downed it in one go. He would probably sleep for a week—and he meant that literally—after this, but he should be able to make it through the meeting.

As soon as they walked into the hall, all eyes were on them. About half of the occupants were either injured and sitting or dead and covered in a sheet. The other half were pacing, fidgeting, or sitting.

Severus swallowed as everyone looked expectantly at him. Who was he to deliver the news of Voldemort's death to a room full of his staunchest supporters? He was twenty, had just barely finished his Potions Mastery, and while he had gained much favor from the Dark Lord, he was not terribly high up in his ranks.

"Snape," Rabastan Lestrange said. "Where is the Dark Lord?"

Severus glanced at Narcissa, who nodded almost imperceptibly at him.

Taking a deep breath, Severus said, "The Dark Lord is dead."

* * *

"YOU-KNOW-WHO IS DEAD!"

James stared at the young Auror. Jake Phillips, had a face-splitting grin on his face. He was laughing hysterically and running through the department, shouting, "YOU-KNOW-WHO IS DEAD!"

James looked over to Sirius' desk (across the room because Scrimgeour realized that the closer they were the more trouble they got into trying to 'lighten the place up'). They stared at each other, both questioning Phillips' sanity. Had the pressure finally gotten to the young Auror?

Then Mad Eye Moody stepped into the room and cleared his throat for everyone's attention. "He's dead," he said bluntly before liming out of the room again on his peg leg. The room sat in shocked silence before the whole department erupted into chaos.

"Is it true?!"

"Is You-Know-Who really dead?"

"Is he really gone?"

James decided to go straight to the source. He elbowed through the excited Aurors, and Sirius quickly came up on his heels.

"Scrimgeour!" James called. "What's going on?"

"Potter, Black," Scrimgeour said, for once not grimacing or glaring when he said their names. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead."

James exchanged a wide-eyed look with Sirius.

"How?" James breathed.

"Death Eaters said so," Scrimgeour said, shaking his head like he was wondering why they were listening to anything they said. "A lot of them coming in, claiming to be imperiused by the Dark Lord and only free now that he's dead."

"And we believe that?" Sirius demanded.

"Questioned under veritaserum," Scrimgeour grunted. "And it's all those purebloods with the money, You-Know-Who's financial backing, that are all showing up and pleading innocence."

"But they won't get away with it, will they?" James asked.

"They might," Scrimgeour said. "They have the money to buy out a lot of influential people."

"But—" Sirius began, but Scrimgeour cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No," he said sternly. "Let the DMLE worry about it. Go celebrate You-Know-Who's death with everyone else. Now get out of here before you sour my good mood."

For once, James and Sirius obeyed Scrimgeour's orders without hesitating or joking. They escaped the Auror Department as quickly as they could, and were soon flooing into the Potter house in Godric's Hollow.

"Lily! Lily!" James was shouting as soon as he was through the floo. "Did you hear?!"

"James?" Lily called from upstairs. "We're upstairs."

"I'm telling Remus," Sirius said, turning around. "And Peter. We'll be here in a minute to celebrate."

"Good idea," James agreed and then took off down the hall and up the stairs. He skidded into the nursery. "Lily!"

Lily arched an eyebrow. She had their son, only a few months old, resting against her shoulder. "James? What is it?"

"Lily, you won't believe it!" James crowed, surging forward and wrapping his arms around her and Harry.

Lily chuckled. "Well, whatever makes you this happy can only be unbelievably good news, so out with it James Potter."

"It is unbelievably good," James breathed. "Lily, You-Know-Who is dead. He's gone."

Lily stared, obviously trying to decide if he was joking. Disbelief was written across her features. "He's dead?"

"Yes!" James said, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "Scrimgeour confirmed it. Lily, we can raise Harry in a world without war. We can live in a world without You-Know-Who in it. Lily…"

Tears were glistening in Lily's eyes, and she started laughing and crying at the same time. Before James knew it he was hugging his wife and his son, barely able to believe that, for once, the future was looking bright and golden.

* * *

Aries woke up during the chaos that followed Severus' proclamation. It took a few minutes for everyone to settle down, but once they did they immediately started scheming up ways to slither out of life sentences in Azkaban without the Dark Lord to protect them. A few, like Bellatrix, were wholly against the idea of denouncing the Dark Lord and argued quite loudly over it.

Eventually it was agreed that, in the interests of their survival (they were Slytherins after all), those with funds, connections, and/or refined skills in persuasion would weasel their way out of Azkaban. Those in the lower ranks, and a few of the higher ones, would continue the raids on muggles and muggleborns, just to a lesser extent than they had with the Dark Lord over them. They would continue to be funded by the rich purebloods.

And everyone would keep a look out for Lord Voldemort. If he was truly dead, it would only amount to a bit of wasted attention and a few squandered resources. But if he wasn't… he would be truly angry when he returned (because if he wasn't truly dead, then there was no doubt he would return) if they hadn't expended every resource trying to locate him.

Agreed, the Death Eaters began to disperse. All the while, Severus hovered by Narcissa's side as she kept a protective hold on Regulus's son. Severus wondered what to do with the child. Not only had his mother just handed him off to be executed, but it seemed that this child was the one prophesied to defeat Lord Voldemort. Narcissa's thoughts were undoubtedly running along similar lines, though she must have been thinking more of protecting her family. Her cousin clearly wasn't well cared for by Alecto Carrow.

A moment later, Lucius appeared and, ignoring the unconscious child in his wife's arms, asked, "Is Draco alright? What's happened to the Manor?"

"Draco is perfectly safe," Narcissa assured him. "The house elves got him and the nanny to safety. But the Manor..."

Severus took pity on Narcissa, having to tell her husband that his ancestral home was now a pile of rubble and debris. "It's destroyed," Severus said bluntly. "The blast caused by the Dark Lord's death decimated it."

Lucius went white (whiter than he was usually). The grief at losing his family home was clear. As well as the many valuables and heirlooms inside it.

Narcissa shifted the limp Aries into one arm and placed her hand on her husband's bicep. "I know it will never be the same, Lucius, but we will rebuild. And we will retrieve what we can from the Manor. Much of it was spelled to survive."

Lucius straightened under his wife's comforting words, and nodded once, firmly. "You are right, Narcissa. Malfoy's are survivors."

"Of course," Narcissa said with a fond smile.

"And who is this?" Lucius asked, finally noticing the boy Narcissa held.

"Aries Carrow," Narcissa said. "Severus rescued him when the Manor fell."

Lucius nodded and just as quickly lost interest in Aries. "I still find it hard to believe that the Dark Lord is gone."

Severus shrugged. "As I said, I didn't see what happened exactly. I only saw the explosion."

"Curious," Lucius said.

"Rest assured I will be looking into an explanation for all of this," Severus said. And he meant it. He would do everything he could to understand what had happened to Regulus's son and to protect him from the rest of the Death Eaters. He owed Regulus that much.

Just then, Alecto Carrow appeared. "Snape, Malfoys," she greeted shortly, just barely staying polite with an incline of her head. Then she looked down at her child. "Still alive are you?"

Narcissa's arms came around Aries a little protectively, and Severus fought not to scowl at Alecto's callous regard for her son. These action did not go unnoticed by Alecto, and Severus could practically seeing the witch's pride rear its ugly head. Lucius, however, was faced toward Alecto and not Narcissa and Severus, so he did not notice and instead returned Alecto's greeting, though it wasn't much more sincere than hers. "Alecto, what a pleasure."

"How did the boy survive?" Alecto asked Severus. "Wasn't he in the same room as the Dark Lord just before he died?"

"He was not," Severus said smoothly. "The Dark Lord had only just had him taken away."

Alecto's eyes dropped to her son again, lip curling slightly. "Well, I'll take him now." She held her arms out for the child, but Narcissa didn't hand him over. She had a possessive look in her that matched how Severus felt. This was Regulus's child. Narcissa's favored cousin and one of Severus' few friends. How could they just hand him over to someone who clearly cared nothing—maybe even less—for him.

As the seconds ticked by, the silence thickened with tension. "Malfoy," Alecto growled, her face reddening. "The child."

Lucius reached up and set his hand on Narcissa's back. "Narcissa," he said, his tone firm, reminding Narcissa of what she was doing. Withholding a pureblood child from his family was enough to start a serious feud that would quickly become very ugly. It didn't matter if he was wanted. It was a matter of pride, family, and bloodline.

Narcissa remembered this and reluctantly loosened her hold on Aries and carefully passed him over to Alecto. "I apologize, Alecto," she said, every bit the sophisticated pureblood lady she was. "I'm afraid the stress of losing the Dark Lord and my home all in a few hours has left me unsettled."

"Of course," Alecto said, pride smoothed. She held her son securely in her arms, but nothing suggested any bit of affection for him.

Keeping the frown off her face, which was more than Severus could do, Narcissa added. "I hope our sons might be able to visit. They are only a couple years apart, and I would love if my son might be able to know his cousin."

Alecto's recalcitrance at that idea was well hidden, but for someone as well versed in conversational politics as Severus and Narcissa it was clear in the half-squinting of her eyes and the faint wrinkle in her nose. "I agree," she lied, and then gave a nod of farewell and stalked off through the waning crowd of Death Eaters toward her brother.

"Distasteful woman," Lucius muttered.

Narcissa and Severus couldn't agree more.

* * *

 **AN:** Another chapter, please enjoy!

Guest: Uh, Snape didn't cast a killing curse at a defenseless child, Voldemort did. You know, like he did in the books. Snape forced himself to watch out of respect for Regulus but had no idea how to stop _one of_ _the most powerful Dark Lords ever_. And, for the record, you can still learn valuable stuff from dirtbags. Snape doesn't have to be a saint to teach Harry stuff.


End file.
